Unquestionably Alice
by circean.brontide
Summary: A woman washes up on a beach in Southern France, her memory nonexistent. Convinced the answers to her sudden amnesia are in her dreams, Arthur and company must unravel the unknown woman's past before her enemies do. And her enemies are merciless. ArthurOC
1. Chapter 1

**AN: There are a few French sentences in this chapter, just giving you all fair warning. I tried to make it obvious what exactly they were talking about, but, if you are curious as to what exactly they're saying, translations are at the bottom. Also, don't worry, there won't be French all through this story, I just wanted to make the beginning feel as real as possible. Okay, I'm done. Happy Trails.**

**Unquestionably Alice**

**In Which Our Heroine Washes Up On A Beach And Causes General Confusion**

It was damp and miserable duty to be stationed at Île d'Oléron in the beginnings of spring. Barely forty degrees outside, the wind was howling so fiercely that Edmund could barely stand upright and he had long since lost his hat. He was not looking forward to informing the Captain of that. He huddled back against the dank stone, reluctant to begin his routine walk around of the wall. Vaguely, he wished that Fort Bayard was still in use. At least then they wouldn't have to worry about any military secrets getting leaked and he could find a good warm place to curl up in. If the rain wasn't pounding into the sea, causing great plumes of ocean to burst into the air, then he could've seen the Island Fort from where he was standing. He struggled vainly to see into the night for a few minutes, delaying his inspection as long as he could.

His watch beeped, signaling the beginning of a new hour and he sighed before pushing himself off the wall and out from the slight overhang of the ceiling. He mourned his lost shelter but quickly realized it would be of no more use, seeing as the wind had increased it's ferocity and the rain was now coming down nearly horizontally.

A string of curses flew from his usually genteel mouth and he wrapped the standard plastic raincoat Captain had handed out around him. Though, it felt as if it had already outlasted it's use.

The wind tore past him, it's fingers working under the coat and sending torrents of rain into every crevice it could find. Edmund stomped through the rising water, peering over the stone wall for anything out of the ordinary. He did this every night and so far, he had seen nothing. Nothing except the ebbing sea and the stars. And now, Mother Nature's fury. And his temper was skyrocketing; challenging the awesome storm around him.

He spun on his heel, thoroughly pissed off he had guard duty tonight and thoroughly pissed off that he never experienced anything exciting- even though he had joined the military precisely for that reason. His eyes shifted to the sea, scowling, just a thick stream of lightning poured out of the sky. He stumbled and squinted against the stinging bullets of rain. He had been certain he had-

Another streak of lightning. Yes! Yes, he had seen something surging with the waves.

Or more accurately, a someone.

He hurried down the stone walkway and took the worn steps two at a time, his radio shielded underneath his hood,

"Le Capitaine?" He shouted over the rain.

"Oui privé?"

Edmund was now sprinting as fast as he could in the dank sand. He tried to keep his eyes trained on the body. The waves gave a mighty heave and the body was dragged underneath. Forgetting the Captain waiting on the other line, forgetting the raging storm all about him, he threw the radio from him and threw himself into the ocean.

If the figure had been any further out from the shore, Edmund surely would have been dragged into the thrashing sea as well. Luckily for him, the body was hardly thirty feet from shore and he was the best swimmer in his class. His arms wrapped around the torso and he struggled through the seething water to shore. The ocean seemed reluctant to let her prisoner go.

Edmund crawled onto shore, dragging the body with him. He scrabbled for the radio while simultaneousely searching for a pulse. The Captain's aggrivated voice rose from the speaker.

"Privé?"

"Privé!"

He felt his heart sink a little when he could feel no pulse. And then a determined gleam passed in his eyes.

"Capitaine! Il y avait un corps dans l'océan! Elle ne respire pas, j'ai besoin d'un médecin!" He dropped the walkie and began CPR on the lifeless woman.

"Un... Deux... Trois... Quatre..."

He hoped the medic would arrive soon. He wasn't exactly the best at CPR.

"Dix-sept... Nineteem... Dix-huit..."

Edmund nearly lost count when he realized that she could've been awash in the sea for days and that CPR might be fruitless. His efforts redoubled.

"Vingt à huit... Vingt à neuf... Trente!"

He bent and administered a steady, measured breath into her lungs. He stopped, waited, and exhaled again.

Over the raging storm, he could hear the frentic shouts of his backup. Edmund began his minstrations again.

The medic slid to a stop, spraying sand all over Edmund and the woman. Edmund was too focused to care. He breathed again, one... two...

He hesitated.

She coughed; Water rushing from between her lips. Her brows knit together in discomfort, but she did not wake. She, instead, began to shiver uncontrollably.

"L'hypothermie. Aidez-moi à l'emmener à la base." The medic yelled. Of course, Edmund thought, she's been in freezing water for more than ten minutes, and that was enough to give hypothermia to anyone. He hoisted her into his arms and followed the medic out of the storm and into the well lit, warm base.

The medic rushed both of them into the examination room and wrapped them both in heated towels. He began to rub the girl's arms vigorously, trying to coax blood back into them. Edmund absentmindedly rubbed his own arms, his attention focused on the girl he had just saved.

Now that he wasn't racing to save her life, he took the time to study the woman he had saved. She had long black hair, tangled and matted from the prying fingers of the sea. Her face was heart shaped, the features pixie like. A small spattering of freckles fell across the bridge of her nose, marring her otherwise pale complexion. Her bottom lip was fuller than the top, but with her features, it seemed more appealing than off-putting. And, even though she had been hauled from the ocean not ten minutes ago, she had an amiable curve to her lips.

She reminded him of someone he knew.

The medic's head snapped up and, in rapid French, requested that Edmund retrieve the Captain. Edmund nodded and stood, shivering slightly. He had, however, taken not one step before the door flew open and the Captain marched in.

Captain Fortier was formidable man. His eyes were shockingly green set against an attractive, cleanshaven face. His suit was crisp, each medal on his chest gleaming in the harsh light of the medical room. He stepped lightly into the room, his fierce eyes landing on each occupant. Edmund snapped into position, the towel sliding from his shoulders.

The Captain waved a hand vaguely in his direction and Edmund relaxed immediately. Edmund reached for the towel while the Captain walked to the side of the table. He spoke in low undertones to the medic and Edmund, though he was slightly ashamed of it, strained to hear their conversation. Fortier made a sudden movement and Edmund hastily leapt to his feet, towel in hand. But, the Captain did not turn to look at him. Instead, he observed the girl on the table with a calculating stare.

"Edmund."

"Oui, Captaine?"

"Avez-vous recherché la fille?" Edmund blinked slowly. Search the girl? Why would he need to search a nearly dead girl from the ocean?

"Non."

"Faites-le maintenant." Edmund dropped his towel and sprang forward. He glanced apprehensively at her calm face and began to gently frisk her. The medic, after a slight hesitation, hoisted the girl into a sitting position. Edmund nodded his thanks and worked his way down her spine, seaching for a holster. He felt that, ultimately, this was pointless. Why would a woman dumped into the sea be carrying?

His hand brushed against something hard tucked in the back of her jeans. Edmund stopped suddenly, knowing the feel and texture.

"Edmund?" Edmund swallowed and reluctantly pulled the gun from the waistband of her jeans. The room fell into an uneasy silence as Edmund stared in blatant shock at the gun.

The Captian took the the gun from Edmund and ran his hands over the handle, his face impassive. He turned the weapon over in his hands and let out a soft curse. Edmund started, and peered over his Captain's shoulder,

"La croix des révolutionnaires!" The medic gasped and the woman slipped from his arms. A metallic clink echoed around the room as the woman hit the table. All three men stared at the table where a pocketwatch had fallen open and face down. It was a most peculiar looking pocketwatch; strange red gold designs intwined together on a silver background. It's silver chain coiled around a section of the woman's coat, somehow still attached after its bout in the sea. And, on the back over, deeply gouged, were words. Edmund shifted closer and squinted at the gleaming metal.

_ "It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards." _

The three of them looked at each, confusion apparent in each face. Captain Fortier scoffed and muttered under his breath for a moment before reaching out to the pocket watch. And as the very tip of his finger grazed the rough words, the woman's eyes opened.

She stared, wide eyed at them and then her gaze traveled down the Captain's arm to his fingers to the watch that had fallen out of the folds of her coat. Quicker than any of them expected, she snatched the watch from the Captain's fingers and scrambled off the table.

"NO!" Her voice echoed around the sterile room, a shrieking, agonizing sound. The Captain reached out slowly to her,

"Madame, s'il vous plaît calmer." His voice was gentle and soft, coaxing. Her terrified eyes slid from his outstretched hand to the pocketwatch and they grew wider. She started to shake her head from side to side.

"No. Aucun. Nein. _Ne_." She stated firmly, repeating those four no's over and over again.

Edmund was flabbergasted. How many languages had she just rattled off? It was hard enough to learn one. Captain Fortier was, likewise, shocked; however, he remained genteel.

"Madame. Je will not take ze watch from you." It was slightly broken English, but it seemed to sink in. Her chanting ceased to mutterings and she eyed each of them suspiciously. The Captain gestured to the table where the gun lay gleaming evilly in the white room.

"Madame? Ze gun? Does it belong to you?" She glanced at the mass of steel and shut her eyes tightly, her lips moving silently.

"_Madame_?"

Fortier sighed.

"Edmund, l'emmener dans une cellule." Edmund nodded slowly and reached for the girl's wrist. To his surprise, she did not resist his touch and followed him willingly out of the room, the watch clutched to her chest. He led her through the base and to the barred single cells. She drifted through the open door and into the small room with no prodding or coaxing. Her eyes still tightly shut, she felt her way across the cell and slid into the furthest corner and remained there for quite some time.

**Translations are as follows:**

**Le Capitaine- **Captain

**Oui**- Yes

**Privé**- Private

**Aidez**- Moi à l'emmener à la base- Hypothermia. Help me get her to the base.

**Avez**- Vous fille de recherche?- Did you search the girl?

**Non**- No

**Faites**- Le maintenant- Do it now.

**La croix des révolutionnaires- The cross of the rebels**

**L'emmener à une cellule**- Take her to a cell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Unquestionably Alice**

**In Which The Calvary Arrives**

Three weeks later, Captain Fortier was debating his options. He could leave his newest inamte in her cell to rot until she talked, or he could take action. He was sorely tempted into inaction since she was getting on his last nerve. Petty, he knew, but he couldn't help but feel rather sore about her continued silence. He had tried various methods to get her to say something, anything at this point. But, the only words that passed her lips were those she muttered and screamed at night. She suffered from these sorts of dreams every night, writhing on her bunk and lashing out.

He was beginning to think that all the answers were nestled inside her dreams. Which meant he had some calls to make.

The girl looked blankly at the polished surface gleaming in the harsh flourescent light. There was a vague, blurry reflection of herself on the metallic table. It was nothing she recognized. In fact, the only thing that seemed to tug at her memory was clasped in her fingers. Her gaze slid from herself to the pocketwatch in her quivering hand. Her fingers etched over the words carved in the metal. She had spent most of her time here contemplating those words, but to no avail. She remembered nothing. She knew much of the world outside of these walls, but not a thing from her past. Absolutely nothing. Every night she would strain and strain her brain to come up with something that seemed unique to herself, but she often fell asleep before she ever made any real progress.

She dreamt every night too. Horrible things that made her thrash and scream and call out for someone, anyone to help her. But, every time she woke shaking in her guard, Edmund's, arms, she could remember nothing; She could only clutch the pocketwatch tighter and cling to Edmund until the shaking stopped.

Out of everyone at the base, Edmund was the only one she felt was concerned more about her well being than who she was. He had told her she had washed up on the beach with only a gun and the watch on her person. The gun, he had said in hushed tones, had the symbol of the French revolutionaries printed on the side. And this was why she was being held. Because his Captain feared she had something to do with the violent anarchists. She didn't try to convince him otherwise. Even though she felt as if she would never join such an organization, how could she _really_ know? A small sigh forced it's way from her lips and she let the watch fall into her lap. Her eyes remained locked on it's gleaming surface, even when the steel plated door open.

She heard the hushed end of conversation and light, crisp footsteps. This was Fortier. He always moved with grace and precision, he moved with a purpose. He had a faint smell of peppermint and gunpowder, a not altogether unattractive scent. Following Fortier came three seperate sets of footsteps. She couldn't put faces with these gaits, but she did not look up. The chairs across from her pulled out from the table, almost in perfect synchronization. There was the rustling of fabric and then silence. Presumably, they were waiting for her to acknowledge their presence. She did not move. There was an uncomfortable moment further expounded upon when one of the visitors coughed uneasily. The cough was soft, feminine. Had they brought a woman in to make her more comfortable? More willing to open up? Well, Fortier would have to try harder than that. He spoke suddenly, jumping right out of silence to further take her by surprise.

"Madame, we 'ave brought in a few experts in, ah, behavorial analysis. They would like to talk with you."

She did not respond, but she was listening intently. Apparently, the Captain could tell he had captured a little of her interest, for he continued.

"They are 'ere to figure out why you are so adamant about not talking," She almost smirked, he sounded particularly sore about that, "... and examine other parts of your personality in order to conclude your... demeanor." _My 'demeanor'? You mean, figure out why I was armed and thrown into the sea. Don't beat around the subject._ The frown that crossed her face was as brief as a shadow.

"...so I am not going to interefere in their work. This means I am leaving the room, however, I will be on ze other side of the door should anything unsavory occur. Do you understand?" She sniffed. Fortier took this as an adequate response, excused himself from the table and left the room. Once again, silence reigned.

"So, let's get started, shall we? Wh-"

"Darling, you can't just rush into a serious conversation without doing a bit of introductions, honestly."

"Don't start you two, we have-"

"Last time I checked, _I_ was in charge of this operation."

"Last time _I_ checked, you're terrible at charming people."

"Eam-ouch!" There was a thud and rustling and then the smooth British lilted voice spoke.

"Hello darling, my name is Eames. These are my associates Arthur and Ariadne." She was so bewildered at their odd exchange that she lifted her head and gazed, in turn at each of the newcomers.

The one who introduced himself as Eames had a roguish smile, his eyes twinkling with mirth. His hair, at one point, had been brushed, but now it hung in his eyes, mussed by either his hand or the natural boyishness he seemed to exude. His suit seemed expensive, but there was an air of indifference about him, as if he didn't care that his clothing cost more than a Bentley. He sat on the left of the center chair which was occupied by a woman.

She looked slightly uneasy in the small room, her eyes glancing from her colleagues to the other girl's handcuffs and back again. The girl looked young enough to be in high school, but she had an unmistakable intelligent glint in her must be Ariadne. The prisoner's mind instantly recalled the ancient Greek story of Ariadne and wondered not for the first time what her own name could be. Her eyes slid to the right and alighted on the last face.

Arthur, the last of her visitors, eyed her indifferently, his dark eyes taking in every detail. He was impeccable in a dark suit, his hair brushed back and gelled. Unlike Eames, he sat almost rigidly in his seat, alternating between scrutinzing the prisoner and the dark looks he threw at Eames. She assumed it was Eames who had smacked him for jumping straight into business. Of course, she preferred it if they would just state why they were here and get it out of the way so she could go back to her cell and figure out what the hell to do. But, she appreciated the sentiment.

She took all this information in rather quickly, only scanning their faces for a few seconds. She glanced back at Eames and noticed he had his hand out and offered to her, waiting for the cursory handshake. She eyed his hand and then his face and, for a reason unbeknownst to her, gripped in hand in a delicate handshake. He smiled devilishly.

"Do you remember your name?" She moved her head a fraction of an inch to the side.

"Do you remember how you got here?" She hesitated and then shrugged. Arthur jumped into the conversation,

"Captian Fortier said that you washed up on the beach. Do you remember this?" Again, she shrugged.

"The Captain also said you had two items on your person. Do you remember what items you had?" She hesitated for much longer, staring at Arthur. He stared back unwaveringly until, finally, she set the watch on top of the table, far from his reach. Everyone in the room stared at the watch glinting in the harsh lights. They could all read the writing carved into the back, but none understood the significance.

"Why is that quote carved into the back of your watch?" Ariadne asked, her voice soft. The girl frowned and shrugged again. Arthur exchanged glances with his associates and leaned forward. The girl covered the pocketwatch with her hands hurriedly. Arthur halted before he touched her.

"Can you tell us what happened?" For some reason, the girl had a growing sense of foreboding. Her fingers twitched.

"You remember, don't you?" Eames leaned forward as well, "Take us there love." Her eyelids fluttered.

"All the information, the keys, to who you are are in your head. Let us help you." Arthur's voice sifted in through what seemed like a fog.

And suddenly, thunder boomed overhead. The rain was neverending, ceaseless in it's aggravation. Eames, Arthur and Ariadne stood aboard the ship, wearing generic bright yellow ponchos like the rest of the crew. Only a few members of the crew were actually on deck and they were hurriedly making their way to the warm, dry cabins below. Ariadne pulled the hood up and huddled closer to Eames and Arthur. It was freezing.

"Shouldn't we grab her?" Arthur's head snapped in the direction of the voice. A crew member was pointing to the stern of the ship were a figure was silhoutted against the bursts of lightning.

"You really think she's going to try to escape in _this _weather?" Another member of the crew yelled over the wind.

"She's done crazier!" The other man he was talking to shrugged and started towards the girl. Arthur stepped in.

"Don't worry about it, I'll grab her! I have a few more duties I have to take care of up here anyway!" The man hesitated, staring at him with a peculiar expression in his eyes before throwing his hands up,

"Suit yourself buddy!" He and his friend retreated hastily down into the warm, dry cabins below. Arthur nodded at Ariadne and Eames and they crossed the deck towards the girl at the stern. She was staring out into the sea, dark hair plastered to her pale skin, rain clinging to her eyelashes. Her hands were clasped in front of her. She looked utterly relaxed and composed in the dreadful weather. Eames cleared his throat,

"Captain wants you inside!" He yelled over the rain. A lop sided smile twitched the corners of her lips.

"Why? Does he think I'm going to jump in the water, lasso myself a couple of dolphins and swim away to freedom?" Her voice was bold, much more resonant than he expected, and rife with sarcasm. Eames shrugged,

"You've done crazier."

"While true, I doubt I'll be getting that far." She raised her hands and Arthur saw that she was, in fact, handcuffed. Her eyes, however, remained on the sea. Arthur stared out, trying to discern something familiar. In the distance, he thought he might have seen lights from a city or town, but it was impossible to tell with all the lightning. Ariadne seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"Where _are_ we anyway?" The girl smirked.

"Who knows? The storm has really thrown the Captain off his course. I'm guessing we've been going in circles for the past hour. We probably haven't even made it out of the Bay yet."

"You seem happy about that." She turned her head, eyeing them with the same peculiar look in her inky eyes as the crew member from before. Arthur sincerely hoped this was a coincidence and not her subconscious catching on.

"Wouldn't _you_ be? That means I get to live a little while longer." All three of them exchanged glances as the girl looked out to the sea again. Arthur frowned, unsure of how to continue the questioning. He was afraid that at this point, anything else he could ask might alert her to their outside prescence. He looked steadily at Ariadne and Eames. They seemed to be in the same boat. Arthur suppressed a groan. He was a Point Man, not an Extractor. It was times like these when he really needed Cobb back on the team. He cleared his throat uneasily,

"Wha-"

Further down the ship, a door banged open and furious shouting met his ears. He couldn't discern what exactly they were yelling, but he knew that for the girl, the situation was escalating quickly. He pulled his two associates back into the shadows of a pile of cargo and watched the trail of men that filtered out onto the deck.

"I don't bloody care where the hell we are! She's going overboard. NOW!"

"But, if we're still in the Bay, she could make her way to one of the islands and-"

"Look around Bennet! We're in the North Atlantic! Do you realize how bloody cold the water is here? If she even _makes_ it to shore, she'll be halfway dead!"

The girl turned to meet the group of men, standing resolutely on the deck.

"Getting a little hasty, are we Capitaine?" The man who was doing most of the yelling stomped towards her.

"You... just... shut it. I don't even want to deal with you right now."

"Which is why you're throwing me off the boat now as opposed to later, correct?" He raised his hand like he was going to smack her, but with great restraint, he stilled his hand.

"You've caused me too much trouble, woman. You're reckless and unreliable and frankly, I don't even give a shit what happens to you. You're a saboteur and I wouldn't be surprised if you were a goddamn spy." She sneered at him.

"Liar. You're just blaming me for all your problems, Captain. But, carry on, by all means. I'm sure your associates haven't the faintest idea about your laundry list of offens-"

This time, he could find no restraint and he backhanded her across the face. Her head snapped to the side and he took hold of her throat, bringing her face close to his. Blood trickled from her nose and down her chin. She did not move to wipe it away. The men behind the Captain were nearly having conniptions as they watched their leader's less than stellar behavior. As a result, Arthur, Eames and Ariadne could only hear the last of the Captain's rant.

"... have you dragging that out. You're a liability." The girl glared at him, eyes the exact color of the dark, roiling sea beneath them. Her teeth were bared in a predatory snarl. The Captain was so focused on the girl that he didn't noticed first one cuff and then the other slide of her wrists. They hit the deck at his feet just before the bobby pin that slipped from her fingers. Her snarl turned into a malicious smile and her head flew forward and smashed into the Captain's. A string of curses vomited from his mouth as the girl grabbed his collar, hauled him up and tore his gun out from his holster. She pointed it, steady and cocked at the Captain's head. The men behind him, most of them too in shock to even think about grabbing their weapons stared in terror at the girl. She gazed upon each man in pure disgust as she stepped back towards the railing.

"Some friends you all are." She muttered, her words only audible to Ariadne, Eames and Arthur who stood quite forgotten in the shadows. Her gaze swam from her supposed friends to the Captain who was glaring daggers at the woman. She smiled quite cruelly at him,

"Fuck you Captain."

... and shot him in the knee. There was an inhuman howl of pain and then she threw herself overboard, into the raging ocean. Eames, Arthur and Ariadne looked at each other in amazement. This wasn't exactly what they had expected. Furthermore, it was absolute suicide to throw yourself over a huge ship in the middle of the storm into some of the coldest waters in the world. How did she even make it to the island? They rushed over to the side of the ship, peering into the darkness for her. To their surprise, she was moving with steady strokes in the direction Arthur had thought he had seen city lights. Eames looked at Arthur,

"Is she a bloody nutcase or what?" For once, he was in total agreement with the Brit.

"WHAT ARE DOING JUST STANDING THERE? SHOOT HER FOR CHRIST SAKES!" The Captain roared, the fury of the rain considerably less frightening than him. The group of men dashed to the side of the ship and began shooting in the water, but the waves had all but caried her out of harm's way. One of the younger men glanced at Arthur, aimed his gun at the water, stopped and stared at him again. Arthur stared back for a split second before tapping Ariadne and Eames.

"Time to go."

They jumped over the railing before the young man could get a shot in. They careened down the side of the ship for what seemed like a millenia and then hit the freezing, mind numbing waters of the North Atlantic...

Ariadne shot from her chair, gasping for air. She could still feel the biting cold from the icy waters. Eames and Arthur woke nearly at the same time, glancing at each other before looking to Ariadne.

"Well that was... interesting." Arthur said as he coiled the tubes back into the briefcase.

"That's one way to put it." Ariadne muttered, glancing at the still dreaming girl. Her eyes were roving wildly underneath her eyelids.

"We got what we went in for and that's all that matters." Arthur said, his voice stern. However, he felt an odd tug of sympathy for this girl. What would happen after he informed Fortier of what he saw? He doubted he'd let her go so easily and even if he did, what did that mean for this girl? A lifetime of searching for answers? Of not even remembering your own name? Arthur frowned. He was usually indifferent to clients, but there was something about being completely lost in the world that unsettled him.

He glanced down at the girl just as her eyes opened. Her eyes swiftly took in the three people in the room, the IV attached to her arm and the restraints holding her to the chair. Her gaze darkened into a glower. Arthur ignored her and removed the tube from her arm before coiling it and placing it in his briefcase with the other IVs.

"I'll go inform Fortier that we're done." Arthur knocked on the steel plated door and it immediately opened. Fortier made to step inside, but Arthur shook his head and instead, they went into the hall. Eames and Ariadne exchanged puzzled looks while the girl clad in restraints tried her best to listen to their conversation. Bits and pieces filtered through the door.

"... dangerous to anybody..."

"... how can you be sure... isn't..."

"Trust me on this... handcuffed..."

"... ze gun..."

"... the gun isn't..."

She couldn't hear the rest over Edmund's footsteps. He stomped in, looking exactly like an overprotective brother, and checked the girl over.

"Doing alright?" He asked quietly. She nodded once, straining her ears. Edmund began to speak to her, as he usually did, but she found it more annoying than comforting. The voices moved closer.

"And you're sure about zis?"

"Absolutely sure, Captain." Fortier sighed wearily.

"Fine. But, I want one of my men there, just in case."

"Of course Captain."

They entered the room, the Captain frowning, Arthur expressionless. Arthur crossed back to the table and snatched the briefcase. The Captain produced a ring of keys from a pocket and handed it to Edmund.

"Unlock the prisoner and pack your bags."

"... Sir?"

"_Must_ I repeat myself soldier?" Edmund snapped to attention.

"No Sir!" He quickly undid the restraints holding down the girl and exited the room followed closely by the Captain. Cautiously, the girl sat up, grappling for the pocketwatch. As soon as her fingers brushed against the chain, she relaxed and stared up at Arthur, bafflement evident in her stare. Arthur stared back for a moment before breaking into his trademark smirk.

"You didn't think we were just going to leave you here, did you?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Yes, yes I know. I am full of suck for being gone for so long. Believe me, I've punished myself enough for the both of us. I could give you the entire, highly entertaining story... But I'm sure you're just here for the Arthur-y goodness. I'm on to you. **

**Chapter III**

**In Which Our Heroine's Main Feeling is That of Extreme Awkwardness**

She stared around the first class cabin of the airplane at her unlikely saviors. She still had not said a word to this strange group of people and, for some reason, they seemed not to mind. They talked and argued amongst themselves as if they had known each other for years. She felt a pang of jealousy as she watched Eames and Arthur fall into an argument over the travel sized chess board. Ariadne watched in amusement as they fought, looking as comfortable as a queen bee in her hive, her winter coat folded neatly in her lap.

The girl glanced down at the clothing they had given her. Originally, they had made to loan her some of Ariadne's clothes, but Ariadne was much smaller than she. So, she had to settle with wearing one of the men's shirts and pants. Needless to say, she looked more hobo than chic. This bothered her quite a bit. She felt that once they arrived at wherever they were headed, she would have to borrow some money and buy something else to wear; something that she herself had chosen. Something completely hers. It was unnerving to think that all she had in the entire world was a pocketwatch. She brushed some hair from her face, glancing at the chair next to her where Edmund was looking crisp and clean as always. He seemed to be reading an automobile magazine rather intently, but she noticed that his eyes weren't moving across the page, but were sneaking looks at the other three passengers in the cabin.

She felt a rush of sisterly affection for him. He went out of his way to make sure she was comfortable and safe, constantly vigilant for anything that would harm her. Out of everyone she had met since she had woken, he felt most like a friend. Granted, he knew next to nothing of her and she knew hardly a thing about him, but it was an odd, amiable sort of relationship. She turned her attention back to the quickly escalating chess game.

The hours dragged by and one by one, the passengers fell asleep, curled up in their blue upholstered seats. Even Edmund had given in to the lure of the Sandman, his head lolling against the window, snores just loud enough to be bothersome. She watched him for a moment, confirming to herself that he was, indeed, deeply asleep. Then, she rose slowly and made for the dim light shining from the seat two rows ahead. Arthur sat, immersed in a folded newspaper. On further inspection, she saw that he was focused on the crossword. As she approached, he penned in another word in blue and she smiled a bit. Of course he would do the crossword in ink. She hesitated for a moment. She didn't particularly want to speak to any of them just yet, but she felt compelled to thank at least one of them. She didn't want them to feel as if she wasn't grateful, so that meant she had to at least say something nice. Two words and she could go back and settle down next to Edmund and sleep away the awkwardness. Staring at the back of Arthur's head, she almost lost her nerve. She wished the Englishman had stayed up the latest, he was much less intimidating than this Arthur fellow. She tugged at the hem of the overlarge shirt glancing over his shoulder at the crossword. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out,

"Desdemona." Arthur started and looked up. Internally, she was bashing her face against the plane wall, cursing her stupid mouth.

"Pardon?" She nodded towards the paper, sinking into the aisle seat next to him.

"Sixteen down is Desdemona. You know, from Othello?" Arthur stared at her for a moment before he raised an eyebrow.

"Alright, so we have an answer to a crossword, do we have an answer as to why you've suddenly broken your silence?" She shrugged, sinking even further into her seat and played with the fraying hem of her borrowed shirt.

"It might have something to do with your team breaking me out of jail." She mumbled. Arthur's mouth twitched, as if he wanted to smile. He wrote in another word before speaking.

"Fortier nearly kept you." She exhaled slowly, her fingers running against the dark blue fabric of the airplane seats.

"I figured. He seems like the sort of man who hates not getting what he wants."

"You're certainly right about that. He was almost disappointed you weren't a dangerous felon." She quirked an eyebrow and smiled sweetly,

"I might be."

"Are you?"

"Couldn't tell you if I tried, remember?" She knocked against her head, "Sudden loss of memory. For all I know, I could be a lion tamer." Arthur's eyes twinkled in amusement, as he finally lowered his paper and looked at her. She took this as a good sign, so she pressed on.

"Anyway, I actually came over to thank you for busting me out. If you hadn't talked the Captain out of it-"

"You'd be sitting motionless in a chair, ignoring everyone?" She cracked a smile, her first geniune one since she washed up on the beach.

"Yes. Yes I would."

"I think I prefer your talkative side to your sullen side."

"You're just saying that to get more crossword answers." Arthur laughed suddenly, offering her the newspaper. She shook her head,

"It's alright, I think I'm just going to back to my seat." She made to get out of the seat as Edmund gave a particularly loud snore. Arthur shrugged and looked pointedly at the seat next to him.

"You can stay here if you like. I don't snore." She eyed him for a moment, weighing the pros and cons and then fell back into her seat.

"Thanks." She settled in, resting her head against her palm. She watched Arthur pen in answers to his crossword, helping only once more before her eyes began to feel heavy. After weeks of sleeping on a cot in a jail cell, the airplane seats felt like heaven. She was on the verge of unconsciousness when Arthur spoke again.

"You need a name. I don't want to keep referring to you as 'that girl.' " She made a noncommital noise in her throat.

"Any ideas?" She made another noise somewhere between a word and a grunt.

"How about... Alice." He continued as if she had put actual effort into the conversation. She smiled sleepily,

"Because I've fallen down the rabbit hole and into... a..." Her words drifted off and she breathed in deeply, already asleep by the time Arthur answered absent mindedly,

"Something like that." A few minutes passed before he glanced over at Alice, a little awed she could go from a talkative bundle of nerves and energy to asleep in less than ten minutes. He was actually a little envious. It'd be nice to go from sixty to zilch just like that instead of brooding over everything like he was prone to do. In fact, Arthur was brooding even now over the incredibly reckless journey into her dreams earlier that day.

He knew he should have waited until he had hired a new Extractor, but people of Dom's caliber didn't come around every day. Granted, nothing of consequence had happened when he, Eames and Ariadne had delved into Alice's head, but that didn't stop Arthur from going over what could have happened. It was always dangerous to attempt extraction without an expert, but the Captain had been offering good money and he wanted it done quickly, so Arthur had run with it. He could handle simple detective work like he had performed this morning, but the heavier work had to be done by someone with experience. Which is why he and the team were headed back to Dom's with Alice. Dom refused to leave his children, so Arthur had decided to bring the problem to him instead. He had thought it clever and foolproof at first, but the closer the plane flew to the States, the more Arthur remembered Cobb's temper.

Arthur glanced down at Alice, she looked unconcerned and peaceful as she lay curled in the seat. But, he remembered the uneasy flicker in her dark eyes and the way she had looked so alone hardly an hour ago. He sighed and strengthened his resolve. Dom would just have to help out one more person and then he could quit the business for good.

Arthur glanced at his watch, they still had roughly two hours before they landed. That was enough time for him to fit in a power nap before dealing with the airport, traffic and Dom. He tucked the newspaper between the seats and settled further into his seat, taking much longer than Alice to fall asleep.

Alice followed Eames up the sidewalk, past the well kept garden and to the freshly painted green door. She chose to follow Eames because he was large enough to hide her effectively. From the team's conversations, she had deduced that this Cobb fellow wouldn't be keen on another 'job', whatever that meant, so she planned on staying as far away as humanly possible. Three solid knocks landed on the door and Alice peeked over Eames' shoulder.

There was a short, anxious period and then the door swung open. A little girl stood, staring quizzically at them.

"Uncle Arthur? Daddy said you were across the ocean working on your job." Arthur smiled and bent down to her level, his dark eyes softening as he looked down at his best friend's daughter.

"Well, Phillipa, I'm on vacation and thought I'd come back here and stay a little while with you, James and your Daddy. Would you like that?" An endearing smile lit up the little girl's features and she threw her arms around Arthur's neck. He patted her softly on the back.

"Uh-huh! I'd like that a lot! You can stay in James' room, you can't stay in mine 'cause I'm a girl, and we can play house a-"

"Phillipa, that's a great idea, but shouldn't we ask your Daddy first?" Her smile faltered for a moment before tugging at her lips again.

"Oh, yeah!" She spun out of Arthur's hands, "Daddy! Daddy! Uncle Arthur's here and he wants to play house with me and James!" Her voice faded as she ran down the hall towards her father. Alice stiffled a giggle at the little girl's antics. Eames shot her an amused look, the ever present cheeky grin on his lips.

A male voice echoed out from the depths of the house,

"Phillipa, you silly girl. What are you talking about?"

"Uncle Arthur and his friends are here! They want to play with me and James! C'mon!" Phillipa ran around the corner, dragging her father behind her. Arthur stood and cleared his throat. Cobb smiled brightly as he caught sight of his old team mates.

"Arthur! Ariadne! Eames! It's been a long time." He caught Arthur in a brief, one-armed hug. "How have you been? What brings you here?"

"Fine, fine." Arthur said, brushing aside the first question and moving on the second. "We... need to discuss some things." Arthur glanced towards the excited little girl and then back at Cobb. An unreadable expression flitted across Cobb's face before he smiled again,

"Alright, well, you all might as well come on in. No sense in making good friends stand outside all day." He stepped aside for everyone to pass, casting a curious glance at the unknown woman hiding herself behind Eames and the stern looking man who followed. Weakly, Alice offered him a smile as she hurried into his home.

Arthur waited for Cobb to catch up before progressing further into the house. They talked, bantering back and forth like the old friends they were. Arthur and Cobb led them into a picturesque living room; the sort of space Alice expected to see in a catalogue. She settled in beside Eames on the large tan couch, her palms resting against the soft, plush fabric. Ariadne sat next to her, settling herself down delicately. Edmund scowled and sat himself down beside Eames, his wary gaze flitting ever towards Alice, his ward. Phillipa made to settle herself next to Arthur, but Cobb caught her little hand in his.

"Phillipa, sweetheart-" But, before he could try and find the words to send his daughter scurrying back to her bedroom, she sighed.

"You guys have to talk about grown up stuff, don't you?" Cobb bit back a smile,

"Yes. I'm sorry, Phillipa. But you can visit Arthur after we're done, okay?" Phillipa thought for a long moment before agreeing and skipping down the hallway. Cobb watched her go, eyes affectionate, and waited until he heard her door close before he turned to his guests.

"Would you like something to drink? Tea, perhaps?" Arthur nodded, seating himself in the armchair by the couch.

"Whatever is easiest, Dom." Cobb nodded and stepped into the kitchen. Arthur surveyed his companions.

"It'd be best if you all sat quietly and let me deal with him." He said, his voice low. Eames grinned,

"Whatever you say, darling." Arthur rolled his eyes and sat back as Cobb entered the room, a pitcher of iced tead and several cups in his hands. He sat them on the coffee table and settled into a chair across from the them.

No one reached for a beverage. Cobb studied the two people he hadn't met yet, his eyes inscrutable. Arthur followed his gaze.

"Dom, meet Edmund and Alice."

"A pleasure to meet you. Now, why are they in my house with a team of dream thieves?" He directed his questions at Arthur, though his accusing stare never left the two strangers.

"I think you know the answer to that question, Dom."

"And I thought you knew that I am officially out of the game." Arthur leaned forward, dark eyes focused on his friend.

"Yes. I know, Dom. But this is a peculiar situation. Trust me, if we could do this with any other Extractor, you know I would've. But, we need the best. And that's you." Cobb was shaking his head emphatically.

"No. No. I told you Arthur, I'm done. I'm finally home with my kids and I'm not going to abandon them for a job ever again."

"You won't have to abandon them, Dom. We've bought the project to you." A slight frown pulled at Alice's lips. A project? Was that all she was? Edmund, too, looked rather cross at being called a project and folded his arms together tightly. Cobb was still shaking his head as Arthur stared at him, his eyes sharp.

Don't you even want to know why we brought her here, Dom?"

"No. I have no desire whatsoever to know anything about them." Cobb stood, his eyes over-bright and angry. Arthur rose fluidly and slid into Dom's path before he could walk away.

"Alice washed up on a beach in France. No money, no memory, no identification. She was brought to the military base on Île d'Oléron where they found a gun marked with the Anarchist Cross. They called us, we went into her dreams and everything got way more complicated." Arthur said hurriedly, cutting Cobb off everytime he tried to pass the persistent Point Man. Dom stopped, glaring from the girl to Arthur. Arthur moved on, "I can't get the answers from her, I'm not an Extractor. I just need a couple days of your time. We don't even need everything; a name and some personal information is all we ask." Dom laughed lowly, his eyes fixed accusingly upon his old friend.

"You want me to delve into a stranger's dreams and help her out of _sympathy_?"

"Yes."

"What part of I'm out of the business do you not understand, Arthur?" He slipped past the Point Man. Arthur whirled around,

"Consider it a favor for me, Dom." He said, his voice steely. "We all went into Fischer's dreams for you. We all risked our lives for the impossible so you could come home to your children, yet you can't sacrifice a week for us?" Cobb halted, his hand against the wall. He stood that way, head bowed, hands pale for a long time before turning.

"That's what it's come down to, Arthur? Guilt tripping me?" Arthur shrugged,

"You've left me no choice Dom. I'm not going to let her roam about on her own, not even knowing who she is. I won't do it." Cobb glared at the Point Man, his upper lip curled into a snarl. He then eyed Alice who met his gaze without hesitation. He stared at her for several seconds before throwing his hands in the air.

"Fine. You win Arthur. You have a week." Arthur nodded,

"Thanks, Dom." Cobb did not respond, he merely stormed out of the room. Arthur stood for a moment, watching his friend stalk down the hallway. A door slammed hard, echoing into the living room. Arthur sighed and finally turned to the rest of his team.

"Well, I suppose we should find a hotel to lay low in until Cobb calms down." Eames grimaced as he rose from the couch.

"I do so hate it when you make sense, Arthur." Arthur managed a tight smile as Ariadne slid off the couch and over to them.

"Yes, because _that_ never happens." Eames simply responded with a grin. Edmund extended a hand to Alice, ready to assist her off the couch. She shook her head lightly and stood herself, padding around the coffee table and towards the other three. Arthur's eyes roved over her, his smile gone.

"We'll give it a day or two before we come back. Cobb needs some time to process." Alice nodded, gaze flickering to the firmly shut door at the very end of the hallway. Even from here she could hear muffled curses as the Extractor took out his frustrations. She couldn't keep a flame of hope from sputtering into life.

"Whatever you say."


End file.
